Support Staff
by stingrae90
Summary: They were only human, after all. No specialized armor or physically enhancing serum or godlike abilities to protect them. Only sheer skill and talent, stubborn determination and the utter refusal to admit when they had been beaten. It would be admirable if it weren't so utterly frustrating.


**A/N:** I should be writing a 15-page research paper. I wrote this instead. You're welcome. (Also, I probably didn't need to know everything I found out about human bite wounds just for one line, but...research. Dangit, brain, focus on your actual topic!)

* * *

Rubbing tiredly at his eyes, Jasper Sitwell sidestepped frantic agents with the ease borne of far too many life or death situations experienced. In almost every conceivable place on the Helicarrier where there _could_ be damage, there _was_ damage.

No one had ever claimed that the Hulk was anything but destructive and Agent Barton was _excellent_ at his job.

Curses and yelps accompanied a burst of sparks from a cracked panel. The maintenance crewmembers that had been burned danced away from the wall, shaking out hands and shrugging shoulders. Then they slipped right back in, determined to repair what they could.

Jasper sighed again and moved on. He would only get in the way, and besides, it had been more than enough time for his next two problems to have sorted their issues and jumped straight to action. He wanted to make sure they weren't going to end up regretting it.

_They_ were only human, after all. No specialized armor or physically enhancing serum or godlike abilities to protect them. Only sheer skill and talent, stubborn determination and the utter refusal to admit when they had been beaten. It would be admirable if it weren't so utterly frustrating. There was a reason he preferred recruitment and intelligence gathering to handling. It was far less likely to give him an ulcer.

Pushing the door to the men's locker room open took only slightly less force than it had the last time he had come in here. The power to this section of the Helicarrier had only been operating in fits and spurts, leaving the door almost perpetually stuck half open.

There wasn't anything here that gave the impression that anyone else had been through since he'd come in, nearly an hour ago now. There were still benches sitting at odd angles, a couple of lockers that hadn't been in use with their doors hanging open, gaping holes that belonged in the structure of the Helicarrier, unlike so many other, newer, additions. Some of the doors swung slightly on their hinges, the small movement testimony to the skill of SHIELD's mechanics as the Helicarrier was stabilized, section by section.

He walked down the nearest aisle, counting off lockers as he went. By the time he reached the seventh locker down, he was wound tight with anticipation and dread.

_"Barton's been neutralized. Loki's hold seems to have broken; he knew me."_

"Please," Jasper whispered, hardly daring to hope as he spun the dial, inputting a five number code that he technically shouldn't know, but Coulson had given him _just in case_ and Barton had approved with a grinning crack about his retribution if Jasper ever invaded his privacy. Romanov's assessing gaze when the same idea had been proposed to her two years later had been even more unnerving than the thought of shaving cream in his locker or arrow holes in his favorite suits. He was just glad that he'd only had occasion to use her code twice in the years since she'd joined SHIELD, and neither of those instances had been today.

The door swung open and Jasper let out a relieved sigh at the empty locker. The hanger on which Hawkeye's suit usually hung was empty, and the spare quiver he kept there at all times was gone as well.

He didn't have to check the women's locker room to know Romanov's locker would be similarly empty.

That made his next step easier, he just needed a relatively undamaged computer terminal and five minutes without interruptions, if that. He grinned as he shut Barton's locker, spinning the lock to re-engage the mechanism.

Perhaps they weren't _completely_ fucked, after all.

* * *

Dr. Rick Jameson strode down the hallway, only paying partial attention to the agents and other medical personnel he passed as he made his way to 31-F. He'd done what he could for Agent Barton when Agent Romanov had brought him in, and then left the former Russian spy with her partner and a couple of guards outside the door. There had been other patients that needed his attention, ones he could actually _do_ something for, unlike Barton. Rick frowned as he thought of the complete lack of methods or even _suggestions_ he'd had for what to do help Barton recover. He could bandage and stitch wounds, he could set bones and perform surgery but he had no way to heal the mind. He wasn't even sure SHIELD's psychologists would know how to fix Barton if the man didn't wake up himself. It certainly wasn't as if the man had been brainwashed in the traditional way. _That_ took far longer than five seconds and a touch from a magical staff.

He was so far into his musing that he bypassed Barton's room without realizing it at first. As he glanced up and saw rooms numbered in the forties, he sighed and turned back, wondering vaguely why the guards hadn't stopped him. There weren't any other patients in the isolation wards, just Barton, and they knew that. It was as he turned that he noticed the hall was empty and he froze in his tracks.

Rick had been with SHIELD long enough to know when to approach a patient's room with caution. Many of the agents under his care were validly paranoid about their personal safety even when they weren't injured. Stuck in a stationary, exposed location - Rick never could convince any of them that SHIELD's infirmary was safe, and after this attack on the Helicarrier, he didn't know if he could argue with them anymore without feeling like a hypocrite - they became hyper-aware of their surruondings. With their senses dulled by pain or medication, oftentimes both, it had become common practice for SHIELD doctors and nurses to announce their presence before they entered a private room.

It was disturbing and slightly astonishing the kinds of everyday items SHIELD agents could turn into weapons when they were delirious and unsure of who was friend and who was foe. Barton and Romanov, especially, had turned a few innocuous objects into terrifying weapons when they woke up and didn't recognize their surroundings. No one had ever looked at a pillow the same way after the first time Romanov had woken in medical without her partner or Phil Coulson in line of sight. It was a mistake no one had ever repeated, even if they had to drag a cot into a hospital room so one or the other of SHIELD's top agents could get some sleep that was actually restful while waiting for their partner to wake up.

With these experiences in mind, Rick cautiously approached the door to Barton's room, holding his clipboard in front of his chest in a likely futile attempt to stop whatever sharp object might launch his way. The guards were gone and Rick certainly hadn't dismissed them. He was the only one who had the authority to do that. But the empty hallway was its own testimony and he knew from past experience how easily Barton could escape medical, especially when he didn't have any broken bones. A concussion wouldn't even make him pause.

Only the isolation room was empty, the bed sheets rumpled and the restraints laying open. Barton had _been _here, it was obvious. And just as obvious, he no longer was.

* * *

Having gathered what he needed, and feeling very pleased with himself for getting everything in place _before_ Barton and Romanov had moved this time, Jasper made his way to his onboard office, figuring it would be easiest to send his message from there. And hopefully, it hadn't been trashed by the Hulk. He hadn't had a chance to check yet.

"-perfectly lucid. Agent Romanov is more than capable of taking him down if there _might_ be need for it again. There was no reason to stay there, not when there were other things we could actually be helping with, Doctor!"

"I don't _care_ what you thought. That wasn't your call to make! It wasn't _her_ call to make! Dammit, he's got a concussion and who _knows_ what else, he needs to be under observation not traipsing off who knows where to shoot something with a pointy stick!"

Jasper choked on a laugh, one fist pressed against his mouth to hold in his mirth. He'd have to check the security tapes to see _exactly_ when Barton and Romanov had made their escape, but it sounded as if they might have set a new record. Dr. Jameson had been the one to check Barton over when Romanov brought him in and his other patients would only have taken him twenty minutes to check on at most.

"Dr. Jameson, I understand you're frustrated, but there was no valid reason to stay and guard a man who _wasn't a threat._"

"Wasn't a - _wasn't a threat?!_" Jasper swallowed back the rest of his laughter and smoothed out his expression. He should probably stop this before it got out of hand. Dr. Jameson was a remarkable doctor and usually very cool under fire. It was why he had been chosen for the post on the Helicarrier, after all. But there was still a difference between the medical chaos Dr. Jameson had been trained to deal with, and the chaos SHIELD agents dealt with every day. "He's not-"

"-doing anything he wasn't trained to do, Doctor." Jasper interjected, stepping around the corner and into view of the frustrated agent and the furious doctor. He smiled thinly at them both. "I'm assuming your discussion is about Agent Barton and the fact that he is no longer in medical?"

Dr. Jameson's eyes narrowed at him. "If I find you had anything to do with encouraging him to flee medical every time something insane happens, I will be highly annoyed, Agent Sitwell."

Jasper cocked his head. "I really think that's a habit he's had since before we recruited him, but no. I have never encouraged him to ditch medical without receiving proper first aid beforehand." The doctor gaped at him and Jasper rolled on before he could recover. "Actually, I have something I need to consult with you about, if you'd follow me, Dr. Jameson? We can talk on the way to the infirmary."

Dr. Jameson threw a dirty look at the guard that had been stationed outside of Barton's room - Jasper really was curious about why the man had listened to Agent Romanov over his superior officers, but then again...it was Agent Romanov, protecting her partner. No one argued with her about that. It wasn't healthy. - and then nodded stiffly at Jasper. "Very well, Agent Sitwell."

Then he turned and stalked off in the direction of the medical wing. Jasper nodded apologetically at his fellow agent and took several quick, long strides to catch up to the doctor's furious stride. "I understand you're frustrated, Dr. Jameson-"

"Not frustrated," the doctor interrupted. "I'm exasperated and furious. He _knows_ better than to go running off without getting an all clear first."

"And would you have given one, if they'd waited?"

Dr. Jameson's shoulders stayed tense for a long moment, and then they slumped as he exhaled slowly. "No," he said, resigned. "I'd have had him in observation for at least the next twenty-four hours."

Jasper shrugged. "So, he didn't wait for an answer he knew was going to be negative. I know you dislike sending patients back into the field when they're not in top form, but from what we've seen from Loki already, they're going to _need_ a distance fighter to take him down."

"And it was necessary to go after him _right this second?_"

Jasper sighed. "Whatever Loki's plan is, it's already cost us some of our strongest assests. Thor, Dr. Banner. It nearly cost us Agent Barton. The Helicarrier is barely stabilized and we aren't going anywhere fast even now." He reached out a hand to grasp Dr. Jameson by the arm, stopping him. "Agents Barton and Romanov are down a handler as of two hours ago, Doctor. I need you to tell me exactly what injuries they already have, so I know how best to help them."

Brown eyes watched him warily, before the doctor huffed out his frustration and nodded. "Fine. Let's talk in my office. But there's not much to talk about beyond Barton's concussion."

Jasper let out a faint sigh of his own in relief. He'd suspected the concussion ever since he'd seen the video footage, so it was a relief to have it confirmed. He would have to be sure Barton took care of that before he actually started trying to fight, but there was still time to get that message through. If Loki hadn't made his move by now, it probably wasn't going to happen in the next ten minutes.

"Though if the wound from that bite gets infected, I reserve the right to tell him he's an idiot. Who even got close enough to bite him, anyway?"

Jasper raised an eyebrow, and tried not to let his amusement show in his voice. "The only one who could get close enough to take him down, of course."

Dr. Jameson blinked, and then looked over at Jasper in confusion. "Why would she need to _bite_ him? She's-"

"-trained to use everything in her environment to her advantage, including her body. Just be glad she didn't shoot him or break any of his bones."

Jasper wasn't sure if the look he was treated to was meant to be quite that scathing, but he ignored it. Stress did odd things to people. "You obviously don't know how many bacteria live in the human mouth, Agent Sitwell."


End file.
